The Artists: It's The Music, Stupid

The music industry can sue every middle-schooler from Poughkeepsie to Palo Alto, but record labels will not cure their woes if they continue to churn out cut-rate albums at top-rate prices. For the past five years, they've been pedaling anti-art: boy bands, Britney and "The Thong Song." Judging by sales numbers, kids finally figured that a lot of artists were only as good as their Svengalis, or that an entire album by 98 Degrees was really just a single with filler. "Who expects a 12-year-old girl to buy a $20 record with her baby-sitting money for one good song?" says singer-songwriter Michelle Branch, 20, whose 2001 single "Everywhere" is still one of the top swaps. As a teen, she lifted some of her favorite singles off the Internet. "Why not download the one song you like?"

Few top-grossing musicians want to criticize file sharing since Lars Ulrich of Metallica was verbally attacked by fans and peers for condemning piracy at a Senate hearing in 2000. In fact, many labels didn't want their artists speaking to NEWSWEEK for this story. It's likely that rappers Eminem and 50 Cent now agree with Ulrich because, as top sellers, they stand to lose millions. But opinions differ radically depending on an artist's success. Punk upstarts like the Ataris--who have nothing to lose--have embraced file swapping. The spiky-haired outfit used Napster and MP3.com to promote its first three independent albums and build up a fan base before signing with Columbia last year. Now its cover of Don Henley's "Boys of Summer" is a hot download, and the band's members couldn't be happier. "If our single is downloaded, then maybe they'll buy the whole album," says Ataris singer Kris Roe. "And if they download the whole record, then maybe they'll come see us play. We just want to be heard."

For midrange artists who feel loyal to their fans and their major labels, file sharing can be a fence-sitter. Ideologically, they still relate to the "get stuff free" ethos of fans and once relied on swappers to promote their music. But now they stand to lose a chunk of their income. S-Curve Records' Fountains of Wayne worry about high-volume swaps of their single "Stacy's Mom." "We want new fans," says Fountain's Adam Schlesinger. "But we don't want to stop playing music because the business falls apart around us."

Ironically, file sharing may play a large part in artists' salvation. It's an alternative to stale radio playlists, levels the field for lesser-known acts and makes kids excited about discovering "new" artists--no hype or slick packaging required. "There's no other place where you have that option," says Branch. "You find it on your own, and it becomes your own."

That's what true oddball bands, such as Ween, are banking on. They were once signed to Elektra, but their experimental head music (the Chipmunks meet Frank Zappa) was too bizarre for the mainstream, and they're now setting up their own file-sharing service where Weenheads can download the band's live songs 24/7. "The record industry doesn't know half as much about computers as a 16-year-old and his buddies," says Gene Ween. "That's why the record industry has to fail, get blown out of the water and start again." And the meek shall inherit the music.